


workplace relations

by ripforurgirl



Category: Original Work
Genre: Burping, Eproctophilia, F/M, Facefarting, Farting, Female Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Rimming, Situational Humiliation, Stomachaches, eructophilia, male farts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 17:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21257159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ripforurgirl/pseuds/ripforurgirl
Summary: A female executive with a gas kink takes advantage of her adorable male secretary's sensitive stomach.





	workplace relations

Marcelo awkwardly shoved his shoulder against the glass door entering the high-rise business suite, hoping to keep it wedged open while he fumbled with a coffee carrier in one hand, and a manila folder in the other. There was a receptionist and a couple of suited persons waiting in an upscale lobby nearby, but they didn’t bother to help him - he was merely a secretary, after all.

This wasn’t what he had in mind for a career when he majored in business administration. Business _administration_ \- not business assistance. For long hours and mediocre pay he did nothing of the sort of what he studied for, getting sent around town for small tasks and busywork. In all honesty, Marcelo didn’t even know _what_ the company was. Public relations? Insurance? Banking? It certainly wasn’t significant enough that he could tell his friends what a cool place he worked at.

For all the shit he gave his job, though, it wasn’t completely terrible. Although most people working there tended to ignore him, they weren’t rude or insulting to him - a protection granted to him by the association of who he was working under. Marcelo had no idea why, but he started off right away working as a secretary for the firm’s CFO.

“I can get that for you, hon,” Marcelo’s eyes shot up, too focused on not dropping his boss’s flat white to notice her graciously holding the door open for him. Her office was located near the back of the floor, and it was unusual for people of her company rank to simply walk out into the lobby. It caught people’s attention - Marcelo felt a little embarrassed about not noticing her, but mostly haughty about how people seem surprised to see a lowly assistant being helped by the chief financial officer.

Kiana was selfless like that, though - she didn’t care about whether or not she should be so focused on treating her subordinates kindly, unlike her peers. It made all of the other shitty parts of the 23-year-old’s job bearable, and in the two months he had been working there, being placed under her was essentially the reason he hadn’t quit yet.

“Thank you, Ms. Hawthorne,” he followed her through the door, and she responded by flashing him a warm, immaculate smile. Of course, it also didn’t hurt that in addition to being great to work with, she was great to look at. The 29-year-old always wore form-fitting jumpsuits that showed off her body, but looked stunningly professional at the same time. She was hot as hell, and it was safe to say she could make any man or woman instantly attracted to her. And the way Marcelo always got called “hon”, “sweetheart”, or another term of endearment by her only made him crush on his boss even more.

“It’s up to you, but I’ll tell you again - Kiana is fine,” she picked up her coffee cup out of the carrier and ambled over to her desk chair. Settling in, she added, “You don’t need to be so formal, Marcelo.”

‘Mr. Ruiz’ is what he was supposed to be going by, too, but she seemed to be very stubborn on the matter of staying on a very first-name basis with him. She was being so nonchalant about it, but the thought of it made Marcelo nervously exhale out of his nose, and he absent-mindedly fiddled with a strand of hair next to his face like a schoolgirl. “Ah - you know, it just feels strange being so casual with someone like you…”

That made it sound too obvious that he had a crush on her, right? He was completely hopeless around her. “Well, you’ll have to be casual around me for a few hours tonight. You didn’t forget about the quarterly report, did you?” Kiana asked, scanning through the papers that the freckled secretary had handed her.

Marcelo suddenly did remember. About a week ago, she had mentioned something about staying late with her to bang out some long forms together, and had suggested they order takeout to help make it more bearable. Marcelo, of course, forgot about it, after being too flustered by Kiana mentioning the phrases ‘stay late’ and ‘bang out’ in the same sentence to him. “Oh, of course not!” he gleefully lied.

Kiana chuckled lightly at his inadvertent transparence. “It’s OK if you did. I know spending the whole night with someone in an executive position can be a little nerve-wracking,” she smiled again, and took a sip of her coffee. However, her face immediately contorted in disgust at the taste. “Jesus, what the hell? This tastes like cardboard,”

Marcelo’s face turned panicked as he instantly realized - that cardboard taste was definitely the soy milk he ordered in his coffee, and he accidentally mixed up his and Kiana’s drinks. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ki - Ms. Hawthorne, I gave you mine instead,” he frantically leaned over her desk and swapped the two drinks out.

“I don’t - why are you drinking that? It’s terrible,” she added, taking a sip of her flat white to cleanse her tongue. Marcelo hesitated to answer. Truthfully, he had one hell of a sensitive gastrointestinal system. Anything with too much dairy, spice, fiber, or grease made him someone you would not want to be around, to put things politely. His very attractive boss would absolutely be the last person he’d want to subject to it, and so he complacently drank cardboard-flavored coffee in her presence.

“Uh...it...I like it,” he winced out, and took a long draw off his beverage as if that would make her believe him. It left Kiana with a puzzled look on her face.

“Well...we’ll probably have takeout later,” she returned her focus back to her work, “I can get you some real food.”

_Real food?_ “Oh, sure. That sounds good,” he anxiously remarked, and sat down across the desk to return working with her.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kiana’s idea of ‘real food’ was a Mexican place downtown that she had frequented during college, as she told him. She pulled out the garishly-colored takeout menu rather early on into their overtime session together, eager to show Marcelo all the different types of junk she would eat when she wasn’t watching her weight. Without a doubt, the pictures provided looked delicious, but even the thought of ordering anything beyond some unseasoned rice and an iced tea made Marcelo’s stomach bubble up prematurely.

Kiana notified reception that she was working on the uber-important quarterly report, and that neither her or her assistant could be bothered for any reason, however. Marcelo didn’t have the opportunity to go out and fetch their food for her, like he usually would, and as a result, Kiana did the ordering for both of them. The two items she read off the menu were something akin to an deluxe-loaded bean burrito and a Southwestern salad - Marcelo deduced that last item wasn’t for him. The picture on the menu made it look monstrous, and none of the sauces or fillings it had looked like they followed any of his little diet rules. Of course, he absolutely did not have the confidence to tell her that.

Marcelo tried to avoid having too much to eat - if things went his way, maybe Kiana wouldn’t notice if he didn’t have anything at all. He engrossed himself in the lengthy financial forms they were filling out together, trying to catch as little of her attention as possible. “You’ve already filled in the grosses from October, but it never hurts to double check, right?” he muttered, fingers working fast over the tiny keys of his Casio calculator. He was working fast and hard on zero food, while Kiana had already made a sizeable dent in her salad bowl.

“Marcelo,” she spoke with lettuce and tortilla strips in her mouth, but it was still enough to command his full attention, “You need to eat. Come on. I can’t have you doing all the work here.”

There went his stomach anxiously bubbling up without a cause again. “Oh, I mean...I’m not even that hungry,” he lied. The secretary hadn’t eaten since morning, and it was possible that he was mistaking an anxiety-induced stomachache for plain-old hunger pangs. Still, he didn’t want to risk embarrassing himself in front of her.

Alas, she moved a manicured hand to shove away his pen and calculator, and made firm eye contact with him as she slid his takeout box across the table. She propped up her head on her arm, waiting patiently for him to dig in. She wasn’t giving him any other choice - sheepishly, he cracked open the lid of the styrofoam container.

The scent of the queso and chili sauce on top of his burrito wafted out immediately. It smelled amazing - and looked amazing, too, Marcelo couldn’t deny. He bit his lip, mind racing with thoughts of trying to resist doing terrible, terrible things to his own stomach. His train of thought crashed, however, when Kiana slid a plastic fork towards him.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Cursing himself the entire time, Marcelo gave in to his superior’s desires, and dug the utensil into the loaded tortilla. Part of him expected to double over in severe stomach pain upon the first bite. Instead, the corners of his mouth visibly curled up in satisfaction - it had been a goddamn long time since he’d let himself eat something like this, and he missed it. Sour cream dribbled down his mouth, and he reached over for a napkin before quickly digging his fork in again.

“There you go, hon,” she smiled contentedly, and shifted the papers in his workspace to hers so he could finish eating.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once the pair had both finished their meals, they had both returned to the much more boring part of the night, drudging through form after form as the city skyline outside grew darker. Kiana had completely finished her salad, only leaving a few corn kernels near the bottom of the bowl. Unfortunately, Marcelo couldn’t say the same - he was three-fourths into his burrito when he had to admit defeat, getting quite uncomfortably full from the ordeal. It was by far the most he had eaten in a long time.

Though his boss thankfully couldn’t see it over the desk, his overeating made no small task of showing itself on his body. The armpits of his dress shirt - dark-colored enough to hide any stains - were drenched in sweat, thanks to the discomfort he was feeling, and he had to tie his coarse hair back in a bun to prevent it from getting completely slicked down. His stomach made him look at least a month pregnant, and while it pressed hard and tight against the buttons of his shirt, undoing the buttons was simply not an option - his belly was ultra-sensitive, and just feeling the digested solids jostle around inside made him whimper in pain.

And, of course, his sensitive stomach was **not** having it with all the terrible things he had just put into his body. Marcelo had to cross his legs to relieve the pressure in his lower abdomen, and not even that was enough to save him from the sensation of gas bubbling up in his stomach, his intestines, and some places even farther south. As more the queso, beef, and refried beans made its way through him, and he could feel things getting worse by the minute.

The noises his stomach was making weren’t loud enough to command his crush’s attention yet, but he was probably going to get there soon. Christ, of course this had to be happening in her office. Her bathroom was directly connected to it, and so whatever he did there, she’d certainly still be subject to it. Marcelo breathed deep in efforts to shove those thoughts out of his brain, and hopefully to quell his rebellious intestines. The least embarrassing course of action for the rest of the night would be to just stay put in his chair, and not move for the rest of the night. Anything else could spell disas-

_Grlgrlglglgrlgl._

Though her office wasn’t one more echoing much, Kiana could hear Marcelo’s stomach gurgle loud and clear, even with her desk between them. The first time they had made ‘small talk’ outside of work for over an hour, and it was going to be about Marcelo’s stomach trying to kill him. “Sounds like your stomach isn’t agreeing with you,” she remarked casually, but Marcelo could still tell that there was a tinge of concern in her voice. After all, it was a frightening noise for a person’s body to make.

He just nodded and managed to form a small smile through all the discomfort. “Ah, yeah - yeah, it does that normally, I’m fi - _hurrraabbbppp!_” Marcelo was cut off by a low, wet-sounding burp from his own throat. He almost instantly felt his face start heating up as he smelled the rancid mix of half-digested beef and queso blanco, and covered his mouth with both hands in embarrassment.

“I am..._so_ sorry,” the gassy assistant spoke, just speaking loud enough so that he could be heard with his hands over his mouth. Kiana could smell it from where she was sitting, but didn’t react, not wanting him to feel embarrassed any further.

Though she did laugh a little at how her meek assistant made such a huge, ungodly sound, she didn’t react further, not wanting to embarrass him any more. “You’re _fine_, Marcelo,” Kiana reassured him, “I mean, I know you have some issues with your stomach, it’s not a big deal,” she said nonchalantly.

What? She _knew?_ And she _still_ had him eat that behemoth of a burrito? “I didn’t know you knew about that…” he mumbled, crossing his legs together tighter as the pressure in his stomach rose. She really had no reason to care about it, but still, he felt like he was about to explode…

“I remember you telling me about it before. And that soy milk I drank earlier made it hard to forget,” she recalled, eyes drifting down to the desk in front of them, “I figured it wouldn’t matter tonight...since we’d be alone.” Suddenly, the feel of the room became a lot more small and intimate as Kiana’s soft, smoldering eyes met with Marcelo’s panicky, wide ones.

This was way, way too much for him. She wouldn’t give anyone else in the office those little pet names, or do those little things like come all the way out to the lobby to help him. Maybe that was how she always treated her assistants? But now, the whole floor had to be empty except for them. Kiana tilted her head to the side demurely, like she could see the gears turning fast and hard in his head as he struggled to connect the dots.

Why _now_ though? If she planned this, and knew how horribly gassy 75% of all foods made him, why would she essentially trap herself in a room with him while trying to make a move on him at the same time? Marcelo shifted in his seat at the thought, and unconsciously crossed his legs even tighter, tighter together -

_Psfsssfffsss-sfsffssfss._

It was just barely audible on its own, but the obscene sound of his gas forced up against the leather chair he was sitting in ensured that Kiana could hear the SBD Marcelo just ripped in front of her. His stomach bubbled up painfully again due to the release in pressure, and the secretary whimpering in humiliation. He closed his eyes tight, but he could still feel Kiana’s gaze on him.

Of course, though, that wasn’t enough embarrassment for him, and the smell hit both of them soon enough. It actually took the female executive back a little bit. How could someone so mild-mannered like him produce such a disgusting smell? She didn’t need to inhale deeply at all, as the rancid smell of Marcelo’s gross farts seemed to fill her office.

“Well,” she began quietly, not wanting to startle him out of his quiet debasement too much, “you smell l - you _seem_ like you’re not feeling well. You can go home if you’d like,”

Marcelo opened his eyes a little, still not being able to make eye contact with his crush. His voice wobbled, “I’m sorry...my stomach, it’s just - “

_Grrggggroggggl._

His stomach sounded off again. It was loud, and he could tell that if he farted again, it would probably be mortifyingly loud, too. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Hnnngh - shit, ah…”_ Marcelo whimpered and squirmed in his seat, trying not to let any more gas ruin her nice office chair even more. He couldn’t help but double forward a little, and in the process Marcelo dared to make eye contact with Kiana again.

Instead of looking disgusted, her lips were parted lightly, and her eyes were lidded dreamily. It looked like her breathing had gotten a little heavy since she had watched him pass gas, and she was fidgeting around in her own chair as well…

Finishing her sentence from earlier, she added, “Or you can come over here and let me help you,” Her voice lowered to a much gentler timbre, almost like she didn’t want him to hear her suggestive offer if he didn’t listen hard enough.

Marcelo wasn’t a _complete idiot_. He was finally able to realize that she seemed to get turned on by him being bloated and gassy. So whatever ‘helping him’ meant probably involved them...oh.

Breathing in slow and steady, Marcelo managed to pull himself out of his seat without letting anything else slip - though he looked like a pregnant woman trying to prevent her back from giving out. Kiana’s eyes glinted in a sort of quiet, perverted glee as he more or less had to hobble towards her.

Marcelo had no idea what to expect from her. She honestly seemed like she could be a supermodel, so it was weird to think of someone of her attractive calibre being into something so...nasty. She outstretched one arm to guide the poor, bloated secretary towards her and used the other one to pat her own lap, seemingly wanting him to..._sit on her?_ Marcelo couldn’t believe it.

As shocked as he was, though, he obliged. This was the most bodily contact he had ever made with her, and it sent butterflies flying hard and loose in his stomach. His stomach was going crazy with pressure, though sitting down made everything else south of his stomach relax.

_Brrrrmrpt._

Marcelo instinctively made a pathetic whining noise in embarrassment, hanging his head as he felt the seat of his pants - and the soft material of Kiana’s pantsuit - heat up. It was hardly as loud as he thought it would be, but it smelled like rotten eggs, and anyone being that close to such a smell probably would’ve been sent running.

Mostly anyone, anyway. Kiana let her hands tenderly glide against the younger man’s fleshy thighs, leading them back up to his hips and digging her fingers into his ass. Marcelo could suddenly feel his whole body heat up with arousal when he heard the small, breathy moans she made between deeply inhaling his...it was too filthy to even think about.

“It’ll feel better if you let it out, baby,” she encouraged, ghosting her soft lips against his neck, and almost impatiently stroking a manicured nail against the hard leather of his belt.

“I...I...” Marcelo blushed, struggling to find anything to say. He had to deal with the fact that he just farted on his boss, and that she was unabashedly enjoying that fact. It left him frozen in place and babbling like a dumbass.

“I don’t want to make you do it, if you don’t want to, though,” Kiana’s voice raised back to a normal tone. She was concerned that if this really made him all that uncomfortable, she’d feel awful forcing him to do this against his will. She pulled her hands away from the secretary, letting him work through the indecision.

It was true - Marcelo was under no obligation to do such a filthy thing to his _superior_, for god’s sake, and he could go down and report her for sexual harassment. He didn’t need to sit in her lap and let her touch him. Let her knead her nimble fingers into his ass, which he didn’t know he liked until now. Let her moan his name into his neck while he made her nice designer clothes smell all sorts of terrible. Maybe she’d call him some more of those pet names while she reached around his crotch and…

“I won’t be mad at you or anything, hon,”

“...can you...grab my hips again?” Marcelo responded with, instead of something negative which Kiana surely expected. Without hesitation, she dug her hands into her subordinate’s lovely thighs once more, and Marcelo whimpered at the sensation of being touched with such passion.

_Blrrrrrrr-rrrmmmpt._

This time, Marcelo eagerly ground his hips into the inside of Kiana’s left thigh, which left the executive moaning with her mouth placed on the side of his neck. With so little space between Kiana’s chest and Marcelo’s back, there wasn’t much space for the smell of Marcelo’s bubbly gas to travel except for right up to Kiana’s nose, leaving her in the best possible situation, given her vested interest in Marcelo’s farts.

“Fuck, baby…” she whispered, before gently sucking on her secretary’s sensitive neck, “That food did you really good…”

_Bllllorrrrrppttt._

Head spinning with arousal, Marcelo opted to let his body respond to her remark. He groaned in relief - the relief from having all the gas pent up inside of him felt amazing. So did the fact that it apparently drove the hottest person he knew crazy. He could hear her taking in deep sniffs of his thick, sulphury gas between sloppy, lipstick-stained kisses on his neck.

“Please...c’mon, keep going…” he pleaded to her, placing his hands on hers where they were digging into his hips. Even though it was arguably his dick that needed more attention - forming a tent in his tight dress slacks as soon as they started - Marcelo loved the taboo-ness of Kiana shamelessly groping his ass.

“Marcelo…” she removed her lips, leaving a blatant hickey right above his shirt collar. Adjusting herself, she mimicked thrusting her hips into her assistant’s fleshy ass, and used one hand to press their hips together, letting the other knead its way into his thighs.

_Frrrrmmmmpppptttt._

_Brrrfffffff-rrrrtttt!_

The sound was muffled by his contact with Kiana’s pantsuit, and she honestly couldn’t tell if it was the heat from his disgusting dairy farts was making her nice outfit so damp, or if she was getting wet of her own volition. The chair under the pair of lovers squeaked as Marcelo adjusted himself, riding Kiana’s lap reverse-cowgirl style as he made sure his ass was flush with her hips.

_Blllrrrrrraaapttt._

_Bullllrrrpt._

She could feel his farts bubbling up against her silk blouse, and the intense stink meant that shirt would probably be ruined for a while. How could someone so cute-looking as her secretary be acting this gross? “Holy _shit_,” she hissed, reflexively bringing up a hand to her nose to give herself a break from the dizzying smell, “So dirty…”

In response to the praise, Marcelo leaned back even further into her touch, as if he could any more. His stomach was still painfully bloated with gas, and he was aching to feel her hands on him - both to rub his stomach, and to help out with his quickly growing erection. Impatient, he placed his hands on hers, and tried to pry them away from their spot digging into his ass.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, leaning into his ear and letting her glossed lips ghost over his nape, “You want me to touch you, baby boy?”

Having his cock touched and being able to let out more gross, bubbly farts at the same time would easily send him into the throes of bliss. Hearing his own stomach churn wetly again, Marcelo squirmed at the lack of stimulation, and whined, “_Ms. Hawthorneeeee…”_

Kiana had better plans for him than just rubbing him off while he sat in her lap, though. She scooted her chair away from the desk, allowing them both to stand up, and gently eased her bloated boy-toy off of her. Once she stood up, Kiana noticed that her entire office smelled like his gas now. It would probably have to be fumigated later, but for now, it was making her dreadfully turned-on.

“Bend over that desk for me, honey…” she demanded, and Marcelo looked back at her with desperately ragged breathing. He had no idea being ordered around and used by her like this would be such a turn-on. And being bent over her desk in her nice high-rise office made him feel like a whore, but he was kind of enjoying that too…

Not sure how to position himself, Marcelo eased himself onto the desk, grabbing the edges on the other side for support. His poor, distended stomach got pressed up flat against the lacquered hardwood, and he made a pained whimpering sound as it felt like a bunch of gas forced itself out of him at once.

_Prrrpbpbbllrllrtttt!!_

_“O-ooh, fuck,”_ Marcelo squeaked, taken aback by the noise himself. Once again, he found himself meek and intensely embarrassed like he was at the start - without Kiana’s thighs to muffle the sound, the noise was disgustingly loud and sputtery. And now, his ass was for all intents and purposes up in the air, surely making the smell that much more intense. Although it wasn’t her intention to just leave Marcelo in such a humiliating, vulnerable position, Kiana quietly decided she could cum just watching him moan and rip ass like this.

“Can’t hold it in?” she jested, and playfully fanned the air in front of her. She watched as Marcelo’s wriggled a little bit in place. Whatever condition he actually had with his stomach was no joke - it had been about a half-hour and he was still extremely gassy.

“Well, I can’t just leave you like this,” she continued, and proceeded to get down on her knees behind Marcelo, leaving her at eye level with his ass. Kiana hadn’t really gotten the opportunity to really admire his bubble butt before - save for all the times she had ‘accidentally’ dropped a pen and watched him pick it up. As she saw now, the khaki slacks he always wore made his ass look deliciously huge.

It was mesmerizing, but she hadn’t put all this work in just to stare. “Let me know if this feels good, Marcelo,” Kiana said before gently pressing her face into the seat of his pants.

_“Whoa-ha, ah, M - Ms. Hawthorne!”_ The secretary practically yelped, tensing up when he felt what was definitely her nose pressed up against his clothed asshole. Did she really want to get that close while he…? She had to have been the kinkiest woman alive.

_Buuuullorrrp._

Marcelo had accidentally let that one rip, legs wobbling in disbelief when he realized he just farted point blank in his superior’s face. And even though her head was in the way, he could still smell it from where he was lying. Christ, it smelled so bad - and Kiana was loving it. Her long eyelashes fluttered in ecstasy, and she moaned lasciviously into Marcelo’s ass. Mind clouded by the thick, hazy stink, she absentmindedly went kneading his fingers into his ass again.

_Prrrplllmmmmrrrrt._

“O-oh, fuck, Ms. Hawthorne,” he whined, bucking his plump cheeks back into her face. It felt like she kept correcting him every time he thought _this is the dirtiest she can get_, and the tag-team feelings of pleasure and disgust he was experiencing kept him wanting more of her touch. For the time being, though, she was too horny to pay attention to what he wanted. She dug her nose in further, longing for more of the disgusting mixture of sweat imbued into his boxers, as well as more of his nasty meat-and-dairy farts, right up her nose.

_Brrrffffftttttttt-ttttt._

_Bbbbrrrappp._

_Blaaaaarpt._

Kiana had to pull her face away, catching her breath for a quick moment. Even at this point, there was mascara running down her face from the exertion, damp with sweat after practically burying her face in secretary’s round ass. She felt absolutely _filthy_, feeling how her face wasn’t the only thing getting increasingly damp. Biting her lip, she let her eyes soak in Marcelo while she let a free hand creep down between her legs.

Marcelo was feeling the heat, too, and she could hear him make impatient little noises while he was left without any stimulation from Kiana. When he wriggled his hips in desperation, his dick followed suit, leaking pre-cum and pressing up painfully tight against his pants. He craned his head back, and Kiana could see how her poor, slutty secretary’s face was flushed with desire. _“Please…?”_ he pleaded.

She could feel her clit throb in response to Marcelo being so shamelessly submissive. He had been such a good boy for her all evening - it was probably time for her to return the favor.

“You want me to jerk you off, Marcelo?” Kiana asked softly, and Marcelo felt like his dick couldn’t get any harder if he tried as she felt her hands working around his hips to undo his belt.

_“Yes, please...”_ Marcelo felt the side of his face go slack against the table, and he leaned into Kiana’s touch when she grabbed a handful of his boxer brief-clad ass.

_Rrrrrrmrmpptttt._

Jesus Christ, he was _still_ gassy? _“Excuse me…”_ Marcelo whispered in an almost incredulous tone, now fully aware that he could make her horny just by farting. The effect wasn’t lost on her - it was enough to make even more heat pool between her legs. Fuck, they were both probably ready to explode.

“You gonna stink up my office while I make you cum, baby?” she breathed, kneeling down behind him and feeling up the sensitive inner parts of his thighs. The lewd question and the sensation of being touched so close to his dick made his knees wobble and his stomach flutter. At this point, he wasn’t even sure if he could still make good on that request, given that her office had basically been turned into a gas chamber -

_Flrrrrrrpttt._

Nevermind, he could.

_“Fffuck yeah,”_ she hissed lustily, and she rewarded the secretary by reaching around his thighs to let a manicured hand start stroking his dick. Immediately, Marcelo almost yelled in pleasure, and had to tighten his grip on the desk so he didn’t fall over.

She was going slow, mostly focusing her touch on Marcelo’s shaft and not his head, leaving him still yearning stimulation where it really, _really_ mattered. Kiana took notice of when he moved his hips to try and get more of her hand, and it felt to Marcelo like she wanted something more out of him before she would actually let him climax.

“C’mon, baby boy,” she coaxed, and Marcelo moaned again at the entirely obscene feeling of her planting kisses around where his clothed asshole was, leaving dark lipstick marks on his underwear, “You know what I want.”

There was no way she wasn’t going to..._taste_ it when he let loose again, seeing as her mouth as so close to his anus. He could say that he would do it just so he could cum, but then again, the thought of being able to make her cum from doing something so gross…

_Frrrrprppppttptttpt._

Marcelo raised his hips in gratification when Kiana, in return for being perfumed with the smell of rotten eggs, started quickly stroking the full length of his dick. Unashamed, Kiana pressed her face against his barely-covered ass, letting the intense smell fuel the fire between her own legs.

_Prrrrrbbbtt-rrrttt!_

_Blurrrrrrrrrp._

_Frrraaapptttt!_

Kiana could feel her eyes rolling back in her head as she rubbed her clit through her silky pantsuit. Marcelo’s gas was getting her to her orgasm a little quicker than she’d like to admit, and her mind was getting as foggy as the air hanging around her head was.

_Brrrrrppppttttt._

_Frrrmmmmmpttttt._

_“Ah, Ms. Hawthorne, oh my g - god, I’m gonna cum,”_ Marcelo moaned like a pornstar as Kiana mindlessly quickened her pace stroking his cock, using the other hand to finish what Marcelo’s nasty gas started between her thighs. Keeping that in mind, though, she forewent finishing before him to use her busy hand to grab a handful of his ass for the last time.

“Come on, Marcelo, cum for me,” she mumbled, letting her lips glide over his asshole as she pumped Marcelo into an orgasm.

The poor, freckled secretary had to use a hand to cover his own mouth to keep from screaming, feeling Kiana continue to stroke him as milky white cum dripped out of his dick. Seeing him such a wreck like this got her closer to her own edge as Marcelo adorably trembled and yelped in overstimulation, revelling in the knowledge that she probably gave him a fart fetish in helping him get there.

Eventually, seeing Marcelo get rocked by such a strong orgasm became too much for Kiana too. While he thumped his head against the desk and let his legs go limp in exhausted afterglow, he could hear Kiana quickly reach her own climax after, rubbing herself fervently through her pants.

The office became quiet again, and Marcelo could almost feel himself falling asleep. It had only been an hour of…’lovemaking’ for them, but all the new, gross, weird things he realized turned him on now made it feel much longer than that. Not to mention, he was still bent over his boss’s desk with his pants around his ankles, and said boss’s office now smelled undeniably disgusting.

“Christ…” he muttered, still not bothering to get up from the admittedly very embarrassing position he was in. Very conspicuously, though, he could feel Kiana using his ass like a pillow.

“Did you like that?” she asked sleepily, and unabashedly adjusted her head’s position against his left asscheek.

“I’m still deciding,” Marcelo grumbled. If he had any gas left in him, he would fart on her again. “I can’t believe you’re into that.”

“Whatever. Just let me know what food you wanna have for next time.”

“...Next time?” 


End file.
